A substitute teacher came to my room and told me I needed to go down to the principle’s office.  I did so.   I had to leave school to pick up Roger who was at the police station.  He was there  because he had been taken in because of marijuana use on the school grounds.

Last week I wrote of how easily the Call seemed to settle on Carl when he was about twelve.  Roger, a product of the same home with the same two parents as Carl was an entirely different kind of child.  Roger always wanted me to pray for him, but he never wanted to do it himself.  He had moments of blowing off steam.  Sometimes to his own sorrow such as whacking and breaking his own windshield at one point.  He had short limits, however.  I only once heard him say an uncouth word.  He never gave me reason to believe he did not respect and love me.  I will come back to the marijuana incident later.  It has a sad but interesting ending.

As was pretty much the policy in our community, the police told Roger his record would be kept for a year.  If there was no more trouble, it would be destroyed, I guess.  Roger confessed to having tried out the drug one time before in the county in which I was raised.  He had cousins up there.  I was surprised.  At one time even big brother, Carl, let him (or led him) into some trouble.  I don’t remember the details.  Roger grew tall and fast.  I let him hang with boys who were too much older than he.

The school incident included three boys out behind the football field or someplace similar. The other two boys lived in our neighborhood.  The parents of one brought him to our house to confess that he had supplied the marijuana and apologize for having done so.

Remember that I said Roger didn’t like to pray.  However that crisis did break that bondage.  The first night at church after that, my heart was broken with a burden for him.  I wanted him to come to the altar so badly.  I felt the Lord whisper to me, “You go pray for James, and I will take care of Roger.”  I did, He did, Roger did!  I was at the left end of the altar area praying for James; when I looked up, there was Roger at the other end with others praying for him!  Things changed.  Roger even became much more studious!  That must have been the year he told me one kid got saved at youth camp.  I said sometime like  “Oh, that’s good.  Who was that?”  He said, “Me.”  Sort’a funny.  Smiley time.

I asked Roger if he would mind me giving this story on the blog.  He said of course not and he added some information for me.  Now he is the lone survivor of that trio of boys.  Boy Three ended up being killed.  Roger thinks it was because of a drug gang; Boy Two, who apologized, ended up dead from overdose caused by prescription drugs taken for back pain; and Boy One (Roger) and his wife, Renee, are helping dad and mom (Sammy and me) live out our lives until death or rapture, which ever comes first.

Roger has a soft and tender heart which goes on display at the mention of a bunny, a four-wheeler stuck in the snow, or my car which needs the lug bolts to give in a little!  Sometimes that causes a grunt and a breathing time, but still no unkind or uncouth words.

Roger has a four year nursing degree but opted for work out of doors in sunshine or rain.  😀